Columbia: are we a school or a drug cartel?
by lingeringday
Summary: I know what you did this summer, S. Does Santorini ring any bells, my little Nancy Botwin? Carter/Nate/Serena triangle. Spoilers through 3.06.


**A/N: Written for gossipink's second challenge, crimes. Won Mod's Choice, thank you so much! **

***

Colu/ombia (are we a school or a drug cartel?)

***

_I know what you did this summer, S. Stop, do not pass go, go directly to jail. Funny how you never thought of that before, or did you? Something tells me someone's forgetting about her boyfriend's past, especially the part she was involved in. Does Santorini ring any bells, my little Nancy Botwin? Better hope the feds don't find out this time. Brown's not going to take in a two-time detainee, and I doubt your family will be too pleased either._

_***  
_

Serena is bored, impossibly so. Her best friend is in love, again, and thus has disappeared off the face of the earth, or off Gossip Girl's radar, it all amounts to the same in the end. Her stupid (ex? whatever) step-brother is also in love and playing some twisted game and also, you know, running a corporation at eighteen, despite having no idea how to do so. Nate's in Europe, backpacking with stupid perfect Vanessa-- Serena's human, okay? She likes Vanessa, she really does, but Vanessa takes *her* boys and doesn't share, which is against every law of liking girls ever-- and stupid Dan Humphrey, who yes, they're "friends," but that doesn't mean he has to steal her friends for stupid European hobo backpacking trips and not even invite her, god.

Good thing she has Carter Baizen to entertain her.

Except this time he's all focused in Fiji about finding her father, and that's great and all, but Serena wants to have fun too.

Serena's whole life the past two years has been about not having fun, being "good" Serena, and she's finally figured out that "good" Serena is a) boring and b) not accomplishing more than "bad" Serena was, other than dating boys from Brooklyn. Stupid Dan Humphrey.

Stupid Dan Humphrey who is now going to be her step-brother, and frankly, Serena isn't going there. Step -brothers are off limits for always in Serena's mind, and there's no Blair to take this one off her hands. Good thing he's in Europe where he a) can't succumb to her "I'm bored, let's have (drunk) sex" wiles, and b) can't disapprove of her using her "I'm bored, let's have (drunk) sex" wiles on some other unsuspecting bastard.

Of course, Carter Baizen, while not unsuspecting, is also not responding to her "I'm bored, let's have (drunk) sex" wiles, which makes him all the more boring.

God, she's bored.

She watches Carter towel off after yet another "rejuvenating dip" in the pool, water glistening over his stupid attractive muscles in the sunlight. It's like Santorini, except a) it's nowhere near as exciting, and b) they're not sleeping together this time, and maybe it's just 'cause he slept with Blair (it's not, though, Nate slept with Blair and she'd still-- but she's not thinking that, off-limits, Serena) or maybe... he doesn't want to sleep with her?

No, she's Serena van der Woodsen. Even gay men want to sleep with her, unless they're self-absorbed asshats like that director, god.

Could Carter be gay?

No, she thinks, as he leans over her, a hair too close for "I don't want to sleep with you."

She pouts, her lip gloss shining, hair glossy. She knows what she looks like, in her hot pink bikini, warm and comfortable in the Caribbean sun.

"Let's go get a drink, S," he says, mouth inches from hers, his arms framing her body.

"You're taking me dancing tonight," is her reply.

***

Dan and Vanessa are best friends. Dan and Vanessa have been best friends since childhood. It's a simple statement of fact. It's a simple statement of fact that maybe, just maybe, Nate forgot to realize the magnitude of when agreeing to this trip.

They agree on everything, and when they don't, they bicker over it like an old married couple. Habits he thought were cute when he was dating Vanessa become grating when he realizes-- it's not just her that does it, they both do. Sometimes (frequently) in sync.

They laugh at the same jokes, want to try the same pierogies, have mapped out every art museum and historical landmark they want to see, and Nate wonders why he's even here at all, after his request to-- maybe see a little more of the cities than just every stop they've bookmarked out of whatever hip artsy tourbook they're following this week was denied. For the fifth time. This week.

He ends up drinking alone in the hotel bar-- Vanessa and Dan have gone to check out some spot where Sartre or Proust or Hemingway or some other famous pretentious dead guy used to drink, god forbid they drink in normal places that aren't run by their lesbian sisters or famous for the famous dead guys that have gone to drink there.

Sometimes he kind of misses Chuck, a good scotch is a good scotch. He fingers the cell phone sitting on the bar next to his half full beer, contemplates calling the suave bastard. But he's probably elbow deep in the middle of whatever twisted game Blair and Chuck are playing this week.

It's always the same with those two. Nate counts himself lucky to have made it out as collateral damage.

"Last call," says the bartender, and Nate shrugs and orders the most expensive scotch they have.

It's probably his only night this trip not in a youth hostel, why not?

Why not is thirty five minutes later, stumbling back up to the hotel room, seeing Vanessa and Dan laughing insufferably at some ridiculous joke, or maybe it's the foreign TV, or…

He passes out face down on his bed.

***

Serena calls Nate the next day, even though he's on some European odyssey with the Brooklyn wondertwins.

"I miss you," she laughs, and he laughs, and it's like every summer they've spent in the Hamptons together.

"You should come out here," he says, and she desperately wants to, wants everything to be normal for them for once.

"I can't," she says wistfully. She's nervously playing with her hair, biting her lip and she doesn't know why, it's just Nate.

"Summer's not the same without you, Serena, you know that right?"

"I know. It's not the same without you either."

"Remember that year we went to summer camp?"

Serena laughs and laughs and says, "And you did that awful painting?"

"And then I threw you in the lake?"

"Because I threw your soccer ball in there? Yeah, I remember."

"You used to wear your hair in those braids all the time,"

"My counselor loved doing them, god knows why. But I didn't really mind, it kept my hair out of the way for sports." She kicks at a pebble next to her shoe.

"Yeah," he says softly.

"You have to be tired, it's like ass early in the morning there."

"Yeah, well. I just have to be moving by god knows when. It's not like I'm required to have my eyes open or anything." Nate yawns, and she yawns back, despite it being noon where she is. "No yawning, Serena; go have a mimosa," he chuckles.

"I think I've had enough of those to last me a while," she remarks, "and so have you."

"It's our one night in a nice hotel with no curfew. The Brooklyn kids granted me this one wish, and then proceeded to come home early and watch TV. I don't even know how we dated them."

"They're nice, but yes," she laughs, her head pounding with the effort of standing up. Carter got her very drunk while they were dancing last night, then took her back to their room and tucked her in bed without even so much as a good night makeout.

"Serena, it is a testament to our friendship that you can tell how drunk I am halfway around the world, and to that, if I had a glass, I would raise it to you," he pronounces.

"The reminiscing about summer camp was kind of a tip off," she replies. "I miss you."

"You could come here, we'd have fun. I can leave them behind if it's too weird for you with Dan."

"I have to finish here, but I'd like that. I'll let you know."

"I'd like it too," he says, voice tired. "I am going to sleep now though, but I do love you."

"You are drunk, that is what you are," she laughs, "but good night. Sweet dreams."

***

He is impossibly hungover when they leave the hotel the next day. His head feels as heavy as his backpack, but Vanessa is bright-eyed and cheery when suggesting they go for breakfast. They walk along the city streets through the center of town, waiting for Dan to finish whatever "urgent phone call" he stayed behind to take.

Vanessa stares wistfully into the shop windows, boots and dresses on impeccable mannequins, as they walk by. It's warm outside, bordering on hot, and they're in summer clothes, but he sees her look at the fall fashions through every window they walk by. He can just see her in winter though, gloved hands wrapped around a cup of coffee, tips of her ears pink against the cold, staring at that same window.

"You want to go in," he inquires, and she shakes her head.

"I can't afford it, and besides, it's probably mass-marketed made by low wage workers in un-industrialized countries," she says, or something similar, it's all the same rant he's heard before.

"You're always so ready with that defense, Vanessa. Would it kill you to just go try it on?"

"Yes, because I'd love it, and you'd know, and try to buy it for me, and I'm not taking that from you, and you know that, so you'd do something impossibly romantic and impossible like sneak back and buy it for me and then slip in my luggage and then ask me out to a dinner where I'd be forced to wear it because it'd be the only nice thing I have, and this is not Pretty Woman, Nate, this'll never be that."

"I never claimed to be Richard Gere," he says. "I just want to make you happy." He's too tired to argue.

She sighs, about to speak, but it's almost a relief when Dan comes bounding up, eyes alight with stories untold. Vanessa takes Dan's arm, and Nate watches her lead him off.

Two Brooklyn peas in a pod, and he's the princess that can't sleep.

***

"Have you thought about what you're going to do after we find him, Serena?" Carter's voice cuts through the room, and she'd thought he'd say something like, "you know we have a bathroom to brush your hair in, Serena," but that might just be all the time she's spent, you know, living with Chuck this year.

"I'm going to talk to him," she states. His eyes are concerned, and she can tell Carter wants to say more. She runs the brush through her hair a few more times unnecessarily, looks back into the mirror. Blair used to brush her hair an obscene number of times before bed, pretending they were fairytale princesses who had to brush it that many strokes before bed, and count every one too. They'd had matching brushes, and Blair always made Serena's nanny go back to whatever hotel the van der Woodsens were staying at to go get it if Serena forgot it.

Blair's been her best friend for so long, and sometimes she forgets what ideas are hers and what came from Blair.

Keith liked to see it though, or at least he said he did, and she remembers him leaning against the doorframe while she'd run the brush through her long hair, counting each stroke. Sometimes she'd mutter under her breath so he wouldn't hear that she was long past one hundred, and maybe he wouldn't leave.

He always did though, so she wonders why she thinks this time will be different.

Carter flops back against the pillows piled up against the headboard, barely missing hitting his head.

"I'm going for a swim," he says.

"That's all you ever do," she says flatly.

"And all you ever do is brush your hair and tan by the pool, Serena; what do you want from me?"

"Something!"

"Well, when you figure out what that something is, I'll be in the pool."

She sets the brush down on the table after he leaves. This never was supposed to be a fairytale romance, so why is she so pissed?

She drums her fingers on the tabletop, then goes and changes into a different bikini. Maybe she'll actually go swimming today.

***

"Sorry about before," she says once she's ensconced on her lounge chair with her copy of Hello! and an umbrella drink. He swims up to the side of the pool, face dripping over the concrete.

"It's all right," he says slowly, then pulls himself out of the pool, muscles glinting in the sunlight. It's so pretty that it's almost like being in Twilight, but she'd be a terrible Bella.

"Listen, I know we're here to find your dad, but if you don't even know what you want from him, I think we can succeed at what we started in Santorini."

"Carter." Serena raises an eyebrow. "You want me to do what, exactly?"

"Start a drug cartel with me."

"Carter. Are you crazy?"

"Quite possibly. That's never stopped you before."

She shrugs. It's true, but she's also been crazier. She was definitely crazier when she helped him out in Santorini… but then again, he wiggled his way out of that one too.

She's not sure she's ever been this bored, not even when Blair wasn't speaking to her though, so she gives him a half smile and a slight nod.

He leans over and gives her a half kiss, barely on her mouth, and then saunters off to the bar to order another round of drinks.

Serena smiles, shaking her head. Maybe she hasn't been crazier, if she's seriously considering doing this again. Although it did get him to kiss her. That's something.

***

"CeCe's sick, I have to go home."

"…your future step-grandmother is sick, so you have to go home and take care of her? What kind of shit is that, Dan? You can't leave me here with Nate!" Nate hears their barely whispered argument and pretends to tie his shoe for about five minutes. No way is he getting involved in a Vanessa and Dan spat.

"You two are getting along, Ness, it's a family emergency. Lily's going to go help CeCe, which is stupid because they hate each other, but Dad needs me to help out with Jenny and Eric."

"That's BS and you know it. Jenny and Eric are like, the two most well-behaved teenagers ever."

"Vanessa," Dan sighs.

"Fine, go to your family emergency. Don't come crying to me when the pierogies aren't as delish back in the Hamptons."

"They're actually not that bad, but no, nothing compares to the real thing." Dan hugs Vanessa, and Nate takes that as his cue.

"So?" he asks.

"I'm taking off on the next train," Dan says. "Family emergency." Dan smiles, bittersweet, and he and Nate clasp hands for a man-hug.

"See you in the fall, then," Nate says, after the back thumping has ended. Dan nods, gives a stupid wave as he walks towards the train station.

"So I guess it's just you and me then."

"We've got an itinerary," Vanessa says, brandishing a piece of paper and waving it in his face.

"Fuck the itinerary. Let's have fun."

"That's what I was afraid of," but her voice is smiling as she says it.

***

Nate takes her out for dinner after Dan leaves. Nothing fancy, not exactly, but more than the street carts and dingy restaurants next to the laundromat that they've been frequenting all summer with Dan.

"You don't have to do this, you know," she says, stubborn to the end. It's part of why he keeps coming back to her. Even though they both know she wants to go, wants to do the "fancy" thing with him, she's going to protest because she doesn't think she should want to do the fancy thing, or want to be with him, for that matter.

Being with her-- it's a view of another world that he loves seeing, because it's so close to the freedom he's always wanted for himself and yet so different. Vanessa doesn't want to feel indebted, and neither does he. Sometimes he thinks that's why she always takes him back, because she's supposed to be this free spirit and "no strings attached" and she plays the bohemian well, but he knows her better. There's a little girl that wants to be loved, no matter what she does, deep inside her.

So, when their taxi takes too long to come pick them up, he kisses her. Her lips, once, twice, three times, soft lips and firm pressure, closed mouth but the intent all the same. They're on their way out to some club, one close enough to their hotel so Vanessa can totter home drunkenly on her five inch heels as long as he's there for her to hold on to.

"Thanks for tonight," she murmurs against his lips.

"Thank me later," he says, smooth to the end, and when the taxi comes, they skip the club.

***

Without the comforting morality of Humphrey, yeah, he slips.

Why shouldn't he? Vanessa is gorgeous, great in bed (that's never been their problem,) easy to talk to. And it's not like he didn't broach the possibility of them getting too drunk in Vienna and hooking up before they left.

But when he wakes up the next morning, she's angrily throwing her clothes into her backpack, storming around the room.

"Van--" he starts and her glaze is fierce, "nessa," he chokes out. His head is pounding and god he wants to vomit, more than he has in a long time—was that weed last night bad? Who knows what you're going to get in the middle of a sketchy Prague alley.

"I'm going home," she says with finality. "We're over."

"Vanessa," he starts again.

"We're over, Nate. A fact which I thought I made perfectly clear before I came here with you, and then Dan leaves and you go and rent hotel rooms with SINGLE BEDS, Nate, single beds, and we're supposed to be backpacking, not spending ten million dollars on hotel rooms and assuming you're going to sleep with me."

"But you did," he says, and winces. It's the worst possible thing he could've said.

"We're done, jerk." He watches from the bed as she punctuates her statement by slamming the door, then pushes himself up onto his elbows. Room service better have some ibuprofen on the menu.

He smokes two joints that morning, then hops a plane to Italy. He's getting sick of borscht.

***

They find her father in Fiji, finally finally after over a month of searching. Mostly searching looks like drinking in their swimsuits wherever they happen to be (hotel pool, beach, yachts, and memorably, one time they went cliff diving, her flask still clasped to her thigh. She's surprised they let them go like that, but they're young and beautiful and rich (ish), she shouldn't be too surprised.) but the few moments of actual searching and the PI Carter's hired eventually lead them to him.

"Daddy?" and it's like she's five all over again, when he walks away again, pretending not to have heard her.

Carter watches as her face crumples, then takes her hand, draws her to him.

"Hey, hey," he says softly. "We'll fix this."

She buries her face deeper into his linen shirt, feels his lips against her hair.

"We'll fix this," she agrees, the words muffled against his shirt.

***

"You need to make him notice you," Carter says. He's sitting by the window, curtains wide open and a stack of magazines under his elbow. They keep their hotel room neat, as if they were going to leave at any second. She wonders if this is how international spies feel, ready to leave anywhere at a moment's notice.

"Why should I have to make him notice me, Carter? I was there. His own daughter was right there, and he just walked away." She's tired of this, tired of Carter being reasonable-- the most unreasonable thing he's done all summer is suggest they start a drug cartel, and he was joking, she's pretty sure. Two summers ago it was all she could do to keep them out of the tabloids, keep him out of jail for that, and now his idea of fun is shuffleboard in a panama hat.

She's kind of wondering when Chuck got to him.

"So? You go out there and make a scene, and he'll come find you."

"Not if my mother finds me first." She laughs, but he's right. If there's one thing Keith van der Woodsen both hates and admires, it's a scene. And she knows she's good at making ones.

"We can't do it here though," she muses. "We're going to have to go to Europe, even though he's not going to be there."

"They're called international tabloids for a reason, Serena," he says, and she smiles.

"So, where should we go first?"

"Lisbon?"

"France is better."

"Paris?"

"It's the middle of summer, Carter, no one's there."

"Yeah, but we can't just fly to St. Tropez, we have to ease our way onto the scene."

"Maybe you do. I've never had that problem." He chuckles, acknowledging the truth in her statement. She's always had an easy time finding people to hang out with, maybe too easy if Santorini's success and ultimate failure was anything to go by.

They leave for Europe the next day.

***

It's an incredibly long flight, almost as long as the one to Fiji, and even in first class her legs hurt from being crammed into airline seats for hours. Serena flips channels aimlessly on the tiny screen in the back of the seat in front of her. Carter's sleeping or doing a wonderful impression of it, ipod headphones still in his ears.

"Santorini," he'd said soon after they'd boarded. "Just think about it, Serena."

"Carter!" she'd replied, scandalized. "Not here."

He'd just shrugged, a half-smile on his face, and gone back to reading her copy of People. Carter's not joking anymore, if he ever was.

She's been dithering over it the entire flight, and two glasses of champagne haven't calmed her nerves.

She settles on a Friends rerun that makes her miss New York and Nate and Thursday night drinks with an ache deep inside her. She'll call him once they've settled. Maybe he'll come visit her.

***

Nate wanders the Italian countryside and beaches, touring wineries and romancing beautiful women. He trades in his backpack for a suitcase with wheels. It's not that he doesn't enjoy being a scruffy backpacker, it's just that he enjoys being Nate Archibald more.

Still, he's grateful when Serena calls and tells him she's just landed in France, and he should come too.

***

She goes to meet Nate at the airport, even though it isn't done anymore. It kind of stopped being so thrilling and movie cinematic when they stopped letting people go through security to meet the incoming planes, which was like, when she was ten, but she can't help but want to see Nate as soon as he's there. He's one of her best friends, and they've spent every summer together since they were six, except for that one. She can't even say that about Blair, who was always in France or some impossibly posh summer camp.

She tries explaining it to Carter, but he just says "whatever, I'm going with you to the airport."

It's a disaster waiting to happen.

"Will you just stay in the car while I go pick him up, Carter?" she queries, one hand on the door handle of their rented car. Carter's been squiring her all around Europe, but instead of train hopping, they've been in a rented cherry-red coupe. It's cute and fun and she feels like Audrey in How to Steal a Million, maybe, or Grace Kelly before she was married.

"No." She bites her lip at his refusal.

"It'll cause more scandal if it looks like I'm going to pick up another man, Carter."

"The tabloids don't think we're together, Serena." He's been looking at her so intently, so she turns her head to look out the window when she replies.

"'Cause we're not."

"That is a matter of opinion," Carter says. She shakes her head, readjusts her bag (Chanel, a present from Blair for graduation, so she wears it all that summer,) puts her aviators back on.

"Wait in the car," is her only reply.

He doesn't, of course, so it's no surprise two seconds after she greets Nate with an ecstatic hug that his face falls.

"What's he doing here?"

"Carter's with me," she quickly says, and Carter smirks.

"Archibald," Carter nods to Nate. "I'll be in the car. I'm sure he can manage his bags by himself, baby."

'Ass,' she thinks as he saunters off, and prepares to do damage control.

"He should've just waited in the car," is what comes out instead.

"You're with Carter?" Nate's voice is incredulous and he's taken two steps back from her.

"No, Nate, we're just friends."

"Serena, that guy tried to rip me off. And Chuck too, for that matter. And have you forgotten about what he did to Blair?"

"Natie, it isn't about any of you." She sighs, bites her lip. She really needs to stop doing that.

Serena wants nothing more than for them to be friends again, for them to get along again. Carter had said "Archibald's a good kid, baby, but he hates me. As well he should." She'd laughed it off, said it'd be easy for them to get along again, but now Serena's not so sure.

"I'm not getting in that car with you unless you tell me what's going on, Serena." His voice is firm. His feet are planted, shoulder width apart, and one hand's resting on his suitcase handle. She looks at him, the bags under his eyes from traveling.

"She didn't take very good care of you," Serena says instead, reaching into her purse. "I've got an eye cream for those." He smiles, takes the proffered jar and pops it in his pockets.

"Later on that, S." She knows he's softening like ice cream if it's left too long out of the freezer, she just has to keep him with her until he defrosts.

"Later on the Carter thing too, let's just go get you checked in and I'll explain everything, okay? Over pommes-frites and martinis?" She grabs his free hand and tugs. "Come on, Natie."

And just like that, just like always, he goes with her.

It's a chilly car ride, but Serena asks about Blair and Chuck and home and Carter keeps his sarcastic comments to a minimum, so all things told, it could've been much worse.

And Carter tosses him a joint as they walk into their rooms, and it could've been much, much worse.

***

Serena takes him to lunch after they've changed and showered. Carter opts to stay behind and swim, at which Serena snorts. He's glad though, it'd be near impossible to get the story out of her with that douche trailing behind her constantly.

"How's Vanessa? And Dan? Tell me everything!" They're at a sidewalk café, lemon pressés in front of them. It's overwhelmingly hot, and he can feel himself starting to sweat on his back.

"What about you? Where have you been?" he inquires, trying to get off the subject before she finds out about his aborted backpacking tour.

"Oh, around," she smiles. "Look, I know you don't like Carter, but he's helping me find my dad."

"Oh." He blinks, surprised, and takes a sip of his lemon pressé.

"Yeah, oh. That's why I'm here with him. That's what we were doing in Santorini too."

"Dan went home because of your grandmother's illness and Vanessa and I slept together in Prague. That's why I'm here," he states.

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh," he repeats back. "You're not the only one who made bad decisions this summer."

"Fine, I'll never leave you alone for another summer, since we only get into trouble without each other."

"Does last year count?"

"Hey, I stayed out of trouble last summer. Although I pretty much stayed out of everything last summer," she grins. "It's not too late to keep you out of more trouble though."

He groans. "Why is it that I always go along with what you want?"

"Because we're best friends, that's why." She holds out her pinky and he grasps it in his.

"God, we haven't done this in years."

"Nostalgia is good for you, Natie. Come out tonight with Carter and I. I have to meet people and get into the tabloids, but you and Carter can catch up. He does feel bad, you know."

He looks away from her face, into the city outside. People walk by, sunglasses on, heels clicking against cobblestones. It's so bright outside that it hurts at first, even without a hangover.

"I guess," he says, looking at her face again. He is rewarded with a smile almost as bright as the sun.

***

"Where do you get your weed, Carter?" he asks later, as they're at some trendy club. It's darkly lit, but he can still see the scruff on Carter's face, so it's not that dark.

"Occupational secret, Little Natie," Carter says, ruffling Nate's head like they're back in Manhattan, five years ago again.

"Occupational secret, huh?" That's new, or maybe not so new. It would make sense, Carter's always had the best quality weed.

Carter's eyes rarely leave Serena as they talk. She's working her way around the club, meeting royalty and movie stars, laughing and smiling. She has a gift, and she's beautiful.

"Sometimes you wonder what she's doing with two slackers like us," Nate remarks.

"She's got abandonment issues Nate. We've never left. Plus, she's kind of a slacker too, don't let the charm fool you." Nate lets out a wry chuckle at Carters words.

"Cheers to that," he says, and they clink glasses and sip.

***

Nate feels a tug of jealousy in his belly as Serena slinks around Carter, like a cat about to pounce. He's seen that look before, when she's been toying with (yet another) guy, who's been buying her too many drinks and sometimes she's been drinking them and other times she's been pouring them out.

She can be as manipulative as Blair, when she wants to be.

He's glad, more often than not, that they've never figured that one out. Manhattan would be hell with those two on the loose, femme-fatale-ing it up.

***

It always starts like this. Serena feels the rhythm and the bassline pounding from the speakers. She's had a drink, maybe two. She takes a shot (never waiting, she's Serena van der Woodsen, she's hot, and she tips,) and then makes her way out to the dance floor.

Dancing is… she just does it. It feels right, natural. She's taken ballroom dance lessons since she was six, before that and in-between was ballet, until she was nine and decided she was too old for girly things (her tomboy phase, she remembers it fondly). It's fine, really, she's always been too tall to ever be a prima ballerina, and she's definitely glad she never got dancer's hips with the funny turned out waddle walk. But she still loves to salsa, to tango, to waltz, piles and arabesques, and most of the time, this is the closest she comes.

Club dancing, it's not the same, some bastardized version of hip-hop break dancers and whatever dancing anyone knows. She's learned, over the years, to take what she can get.

Boys that hit on her, men that hit on her, always say "you're a really good dancer,"

And she just smiles, and says, "I know."

Tonight's a bust though, none of them are famous or infamous enough to get her in the European tabloids, let alone the internationals. So, after a half hour on the dance floor, she nods to Carter and he joins her on the dance floor. It's easy, being with him. He moves when she moves, and she's never had to tell him not to be so handsy. Carter's always the appropriate amount of handsy.

Except for when she wants to take him to her bed, but that's another story entirely.

"Having fun with Nate," she half whispers, half yells into his ear.

"We're getting along, amazingly enough," he says, bending down to give her a kiss.

She shoves him off. "What are you doing?"

"I thought you wanted," he trails off. "No, you want Nate."

"You said no! You said no in Fiji, and now you're pretending like we're together again just to piss off Nate. I'm not some prize here, Carter."

In her anger she doesn't realize that Nate's been watching the entire time, and now is at her side.

"Back off," Nate says to Carter, shoving him roughly.

"Nate!" she cries, shocked. She shouldn't be.

"This is none of your concern, Nate," Carter says tiredly.

"She's my friend and she doesn't want you, that makes it my concern," he replies.

"Nate, come on," she says, tugging on his arm. He follows her as she leads him out of the club, and it's only on the streets outside that she blows up.

"I can't do this if you're going to be protecting me every second, Nate."

"I can't help that I want to protect you, Serena. That's what you do with friends."

"No, that's what you do with your girlfriends! Just because you and Vanessa didn't work out doesn't mean I'm going to come running."

"I didn't ask you to be my girlfriend, Serena." He starts massaging his temple.

"We'll talk about this in the morning," she says and disappears back into the club.

They don't. Nate's already left by the time she gets up.

***

She meets Prince Harry.

It isn't a big deal, really; eventually you meet everyone rich and famous if you're rich in St. Tropez.

Gossip Girl still reports on them becoming Facebook friends, which everyone knows doesn't mean anything.

Serena's beautiful and blonde and charming but it doesn't mean anything to her, not any more.

She goes to the Venice Film Festival, gets wined and dined by several famous actors, and basically does everything Gossip Girl accuses her of.

During the middle of one of these wining and dining sessions, she ducks into the bathroom (plush seats, mirrored walls, does the back of her hair really look like that?) and calls Blair.

"B, it's me. I know you're off having sexy fun games with Chuck, but can you please, please call me back? I am your best friend, aren't I?"

Serena doesn't know anymore. Can you be best friends when you haven't heard from someone in two months, not even a reply to a drunk text? Everyone replies to drunk texts, if only for the humor value.

She feels alone, and lonely, and every possible redundant synonym of the two. Without Blair, she doesn't know what she has left. If Blair's too busy to call, there's definitely no way she's getting a hold of Chuck who not only has a business to run, but has a Blair to keep from going psycho (which is no small feat, as they both know well). She's not calling Eric, as much as she trusts him; he'll just tell her to come home, their father isn't worth that much. Nate's gone, pissed off about Carter, and their fight-- well, she doesn't want to back down yet and tell him he was right. So she doesn't ask "Why'd you leave" when he calls, just says "I wish you were here," and tries to make the best of it.

He'll come around, he always does.

***

Nate goes crazy after Vanessa leaves and he's run from Serena. Well, he goes what Dan and Vanessa would consider crazy; crazy to Chuck and Blair is what he's been doing the rest of the summer with Dan and Vanessa. He uses his connections and his grandfather's money and hops private jets through European countries like they're whiskeys he and Chuck used to knock back on their "slumming it" nights.

"Because Nathaniel, slumming it is drinking two hundred dollar whiskey instead of scotch," Chuck would drawl, and he'd laugh, think about the summers when he and Serena would sneak off and drink PBR on the sand dunes. That was slumming it with alcohol, more than this ever will be, but he holds those memories close to his chest and never once tells Chuck or Blair about them.

Of course, "slumming it" nights always ended with Chuck finding a cocktail waitress to take home, and Nate respects Serena far more than Chuck will ever respect one of those cocktail waitresses, so he guesses 200 dollar whiskey is really more of slumming it than anything he'll ever do with Serena.

He lands in Lisbon, then Paris, and he feels like he's always a step behind Serena when he lands. She answers her phone whenever he calls, no matter how crowded the club, and always laughs and says "I wish you were here," but there's something insincere behind her voice.

He's not ready for another rejection from her, so he stays where he is, one step behind. She's got Carter now anyway, he thinks jealously.

***

She's got Carter now, she thinks, and it's a horrible realization.

Yes, he's hot. Yes, she has fun with him. Yes, he's been nothing but helpful and has been following (leading) her to the ends of the earth while she's looking for her father.

And that's what scares her. He's never gone away. Even when he slept with Blair, he was still there, looking, waiting, helping her.

"Sex is just sex, Serena," he says when she asks him about Blair. "It doesn't have to mean anything."

But it does mean something when he's lying there next to her, just like in Santorini. Her head is pounding (how much did they drink last night?) and Carter is face down in the pillows, bare back exposed. There's a little bit of drool and it's kind of cute, but mostly she just wants to vomit.

No, really, she just wants to vomit.

She locks herself in the bathroom and hopes he won't wake up. She looks like hell, like death warmed over and every other cliché, and after she brushes her teeth three times and drags her hair into a ponytail, the bathroom is devoid of her belongings.

The rest she never unpacked, so it's easy work slipping out of the room before he wakes up.

***

After Carter leaves, which really means after she runs, she keeps doing what they were doing. She knows she's going to end up in every major tabloid, and maybe (honestly) that's really the point.

Serena's not stupid though, Lily would yank her home if she knew, and Rufus, knowing Lily, would (will) do exactly the same. Enter Eric. Sane, sensible Eric, who is her rock.

"E, you know I need to find him."

"But why now? Why like this, Serena?"

She bites her lip, and she knows he knows she's doing it, even from thousands of miles away.

"Can you just," she pauses. It's not fair to always, always—but that's what siblings are for, aren't they?

"Hide your exploits from Rufus and the rest of the Humphrey clan? Got it."

"The rest?"

"Dan came home a few weeks ago, I thought you knew."

Well, shit. She kind of forgot about that part. It makes things a little more complicated.

"Jenny's fine, I know you tell her everything," she says instead.

She fingers her phone after he hangs up, thinking about calling Nate. Nate would come though, Nate would come to her side in a second, and if Nate's by her side all her exploits will be for nothing because the tabloids always, always think they're dating whenever they spend more than two seconds together.

And having a respectable boyfriend in the eyes of the tabloids doesn't make a scene. Being a power couple doesn't make Daddy fly home to deal with her scandal. It just drags Nate down with her, and he's been through enough tabloid drama in high school to last his whole life.

Then again, haven't they all?

She sends Eric a drunk text later that night, reminding him of his promise, on Carter's phone that she stole. She doesn't want them to know where she is.

"mk J promise 2."

"she promises, and I won't tell her why."

Good old Eric. He should've been the older sibling, he was always the more responsible one.

***

Nate meets Keira at a football match. He's in Lisbon, rooting for the away team (he's always liked the underdog, which explains his friendship with Dan) and she ends up sitting down next to him.

"Do you mind?" she says, not rudely.

"Not at all," he says, waving a hand. "Go right ahead."

He idly chatters with her as he watches the game. She's animated, mostly just here for her boyfriend, who's in some special box or something.

"I get bored though," she says, finishing her beer. "And my girlfriends are all trying to meet a football player, so they're no use either."

"Some friends," he remarks. She just laughs.

"Haven't you ever been single?"

"I'm single right now," he says, glancing over at her warily. He's not entirely sure it's by choice, but maybe taking some time off from dating girls that aren't the girl he's in love with is a good thing.

"Sometimes you have to go for it, and your friends in relationships will understand, if they're actually your friends," she says simply. "The only thing I mind is the boredom, which you've alleviated quite nicely, thank you."

He smiles, turns his head back to the game. They cheer as ACF Fiorentina makes a goal, and he's pleasantly surprised she's rooting for the same team.

Later, when she invites him to meet her friends if he's ever in London, he can't say he's surprised.

But with all his friends shacking up, and no desire to go back to New York and the confines of being a van der Bilt just yet, he thinks he might end up taking her up on her offer.

***

Serena feels the beat under her stilettos, five inch Louboutins to be exact. Blair used to tell her not to wear such high heels when they were younger, saying "boys don't make passes at girls who wear glasses, or are EIGHT FEET TALL, S, what are you thinking?" Serena kind of always figured Blair didn't want Serena towering over her, never mind the boys. So she wore a lot of flats her middle school years, but Georgina proclaimed high school was a time for heels, S, and it would make it much easier to get into clubs if the bouncers can't see your face and how young it looks.

Sometimes she misses how young they all used to be, sleepovers and gin martinis, but then she remembers that she's not exactly old yet.

Although she never wants to end up like her mother, pushing 40 and getting remarried like a teenager, all giddy. She frowns at the thought.

"Pretty girl like you should smile," a guy says in passing, and she glares at him instead, pushes forward to the bar. She's not going to smile if she doesn't want to, even if she did come here to have fun.

Well, to have fun and to get her picture in the papers.

She smiles, wickedly, and asks the bartender for two lemon drops. He raises his eyebrows at her asking for two, but she gives him a stroke on the arm and a genuine smile, and that fixes everything.

Serena wanders over to her photographer "friend," clutching her two lemon drops.

"Double fisting, again Serena? Need me to take a photo?"

"Not of me double fisting. One of these is for throwing."

"That's hardly newsworthy. Girls waste drinks all the time."

"I think he's an investment banker or something. Politics? He told me to smile."

"Oh, the dreaded 'being told to smile'. Serena, lighten up."

"Are you going to help me or not?"

"It's not great for your image."

"How do you know what image I want to cultivate?" She takes a sip of one of the lemon drops. She needs him, but he doesn't need to know that.

"Fine, let me get into place and buy me a drink after."

"Deal," she says, smiling. It would be cheaper if he wanted to sleep with her, but she figures him being gay is the only reason he's stuck around so long without getting anything.

It goes as smoothly as throwing a drink in someone's face ever can go, which is to say, not very. She curses herself and Blair for all those years of vintage movies, where slapping a man across the face was always the correct move. Still, as she walks away as the dude's still yelling obscenities, she gets a covert thumbs up. He got the shot. Good.

She lights up a joint in the girl's bathroom after it's over. She's never been so glad she stole Carter's stash before she left him.

***

He goes to London. It's on his way home, really, and he knows Serena won't go there, even if all the rumors about her and Prince Harry are true. It's too sedate for her when she's trying to get noticed-- and he's not as stupid as everyone thinks, especially not when it comes to Serena. Sometimes he thinks that's where he went wrong with Blair-- he was never stupid about girls, he just always knew more about his girlfriend's best friend than her.

It was probably on purpose, to be honest.

Just like he goes to London on purpose. He doesn't want to see her with Carter, doesn't want to imagine them more-than-kissing, or worse yet, not have to imagine it. So he accepts Keira's invitation to go out with her and her mates sometime-- "see the brown-haired one over there," she'd said, "that one thinks you're right fit. Come out with us when you're in London."-- and ends up kissing the brunette in the club after three whiskey sours and a drop shot of dubious color and manliness.

It doesn't go beyond kissing, but it could, if he wanted it to. She's into it, dancing with her hands grabbing his ass, running up and down his back, trailing kisses on his neck, but it's all too much of a scene for him. He doesn't even know her, and maybe sometime in the past year he's matured beyond his man-whore label.

Nate hopes so, when he leaves her behind to go back to his hotel room, alone.

***

He meets Bree on the plane ride home.

She's pretty, and redheaded, that's a new one. He's never had a problem getting girls, not even when he was with Blair, but she makes him work a little bit for it and he likes it. She's smart too, going into graduate school at Columbia. An older woman might be just what he needs.

And if he's thinking about how he misses Serena when he kisses her, well, it's not cheating if you're not together with someone.

***

She's nervous when she calls Nate after they're back in the city. Carter wasn't exactly discreet when he chased after her on a horse-- and yes, the point of her taking off on a horse was for her to get noticed, but she never exactly counted on Carter wanting to make a fool of himself as well. When they were in Europe, he was more than content to take a backseat to everything that happened.

And she and Nate didn't really part on the best of terms anyway, and their stilted phone conversations and awkward run-in at the polo match have done nothing to fix it.

Now Carter wants them to sell drugs for him, and she kind of owes him big time, but she didn't know when she kissed him at the polo match that he had this in mind. Still, it makes sense, and the worst Nate can do is say no. Nate would never implicate her to the authorities, which makes it easy to go along with Carter's half-baked plan of including Nate. She briefly wonders why he wants Nate included, since the two guys have been nothing but argumentative since she got back from Santorini, but them getting along is good. She'll do whatever it takes.

"Natie, I want to see you," she says.

"Don't you ever text like normal people?" he answers groggily.

"Sometimes it takes too long." She makes a face that he can't see over the phone. She's kind of over texting. She misses when they were little and no one had cell phones and playdates had to be set up in advance over landlines.

Their kids aren't even going to know what landlines are, let alone how to have a phone conversation.

"It's faster than waking me up," he says.

"Sorry. Are you back in the city? Come over, we'll have lunch."

"Is Chuck there?"

"He's at some event thing with B, and the Humphreys have, like, adopted my little bro for good. They're at some museum opening in Brooklyn. I know you have a new girlfriend and everything, but I have stuff to tell you."

"Stuff you can't tell me over the phone? Serena, I already know you dated Carter this summer."

"Stuff we couldn't really talk about at the polo match, what with your new girlfriend and everyone there. Come on, Natie," she cajoles, and he finds himself agreeing to meet with her later that afternoon, if only to get her off the phone so he can go back to sleep.

***

They end up meeting in his apartment, which would be fine if she didn't bring Carter with her.

"I have a business proposal for you, Nate," he replies to Nate's angered "why are you here?"

"We're rich, why would we need to start a drug cartel?" Nate asks, before Carter can get any further.

"You're not rich, your daddy's in jail and your grandpa's cut off your purse strings. I'm not rich since my parents revoked my trust fund, yet again. Plus, it's the perfect cover. Everyone still thinks we're rich, so why would we need to be trafficking drugs?"

"Drugs? I thought you were just dealing MJ?" He leaves off the obvious, which is that his grandfather hasn't actually cut off the purse strings… yet.

"MJ is a drug, little Natie." Carter smirks. Nate hates that smirk, wants to wipe it off his face with his fist, or be a tattletale and run to the police with his newly acquired info.

Nate's not a tattletale though, despite what the world might think.

"Why're you here, Serena?" He says, looking at her desperately. She's never been this crazy before, at least not that he's seen. He also has an appalling tendency to go along with her, no matter what.

She dared him to climb that tree in Central Park. They drank their first drink together, giggling in her latest step-father's penthouse. He'd skip class to go see a movie with her. "I will if you will" was the cornerstone of their friendship. At least it was, until their game led them to three tequila shots and a bottle of champagne snuck out of a wedding reception.

He would've run away with her if only she'd asked.

"Bored? Plus I owe Carter," she replies, twisting a lock of hair around her finger and then letting it drop.

He lets his hopes drop inside his chest, careful not to let it show on his face. If she's admitting out loud that she owes Carter, she must owe him big, at least in her mind. Knowing Carter, he's not about to let her repay that debt quickly.

Bree, he thinks, you still have Bree.

But she's not Serena. They never are.

"Come on, Natie, I will if you will," she grins, looking at him for the first time since this whole twisted "business" meeting started. Her blue eyes shine, and he remembers why he's hardly ever been able to say no to her.

"Fine, I'm in. But for the record, I'm just doing this to piss off my grandfather."

"Great!" and it's Carter's voice that speaks, and it's Carter that claps a welcoming arm around his shoulders, and he's still staring at Serena who's eyes have gone dull again.

They smoke a celebratory joint to cement their deal, and he feels thirteen all over again.

***

He corners Carter the day his first shipment comes in. They're meeting in the in the lobby of one of Chuck's hotels, Carter's pretending to think about getting a room, and Nate's allegedly there to meet Chuck. They've done the discreet passing of the shopping bags with the weed, which Nate has stashed in a messenger bag, and now Nate just wants answers.

"How'd you get her to agree?" he asks, pulling Carter over by a potted plant in a semi-discreet corner.

"Bitches don't say no to me, I'm like a wedding ring," Carter says.

"The Dope Boys in the building," Nate quips back and for a second it's like how it used to be, when they were still friends. "But this isn't a rap song. You're messing with her life, Carter."

"Her life was messed up long before this summer, Nate. She needs me just like I need her. Unfortunately for me, she seems to need your punk ass too, so you get to be involved in this little scheme and reap all the benefits for very little work." Carter looks away, hands shoved in his pockets.

"Little work? Are you kidding me? I work harder than you do." Nate's starting to get angry, but punching Carter doesn't accomplish anything. Serena's not Blair, and she'll only hate him for hitting one of her friends.

"Glad to see your work ethic isn't effected by your ethics, kid."

"Just because it's illegal doesn't mean I think it should be, it's not like we're selling heroin or shit like that."

"Oh, little Natie, how naive you are."

"You know Serena would never stand for it."

"You think you two are the only dealers I have? Cute."

"Carter."

"I have to make money somehow, and with her four day benders on the party circuit and your midterms and finals and constant papers, yeah, I have other dealers. Don't get your panties in a bunch, little Natie-- I can see it happening already."

"School hasn't even started yet, Carter, how do you know I'm going to actually do work this time?" He really should punch Carter for calling him Little Natie. No one calls him Natie except Serena.

"You're a boy scout, Archibald. You coasted through high school on your looks and family name and yet you're smart enough to realize that college, especially this college that you've chosen because they don't recognize your family name and connections, is going to be different. You're actually going to work, Nate. I'm not stupid. I see that. Especially since you want to impress that little girlfriend of yours, make her family not completely hate you."

"How do you know all this shit, Carter?"

"It's what I do, Nate." His voice is quiet, resigned. "It's what I do."

***

She never tells Chuck that she does actually go meet her roommate at Brown. It's awkward, impossibly so, and she misses Blair and the city with an ache that won't go away.

It's like boarding school redux.

She made the limo wait for her, so she guesses she was never planning on staying, and pretends she never went.

What Chuck says makes sense though, confirms her decision. She's beautiful and smart, even though most people never see the second, and there's no point in going to Brown to figure out her life for a piece of paper that won't open any doors that aren't already wide open for her.

Plus, if she changes her mind? Brown's still there, waiting.

Or at least it will be, if her cry for attention doesn't get answered by the wrong people.

***

Serena drops out of Brown.

Nate wants to say he's surprised, but he isn't. Even before they got involved with Carter, he never thought she'd last long. Serena's the city, it's in her. She couldn't even leave for sleepy boarding school and have it stick.

"I was so bored," she admits one night, lying on his bed, their hands entwined. "I was there, at Brown, meeting my roommate, right? And all I can think is, this is boarding school all over again, except... I don't have to stay here. I didn't do anything wrong, I'm not running away from my problems this time. And hello, all my contacts this summer? If I stay away for a whole school year, I might as well not have met Prince Harry. School can wait, Natie. I have to do this now."

"I admire you," he says, and it's true. She knows the right path for her, and she's so certain. He, on the other hand, has no idea.

Just like always.

He pulls his hand out of hers.

"Wanna smoke?" he asks, getting up to get his stash. She laughs, doesn't move.

"Sure, Natie."

It's easier this way.

***

It's surprisingly easier than any of them suspect. Well, easier than he or Serena suspected. Nate knows Carter is no stranger to illegal activities of the shadier than possession variety, so Nate also suspects that Carter knew it'd be this easy.

All Serena has to say is "I'm a Bass" (never mind that she's a Humphrey now, as much as she ever was a Bass,) and doors open for her. Not that doors wouldn't open for her with her legs and hair, but those legs and hair with money? Opens every damn door, every damn time.

Nate misses when it was that easy for him. Van der Bilt opens some doors, but not as many as they need, and he'll never be above suspicion the way Serena is, thanks to his gender and his father.

He gets an illicit rush when he does his first deal. Of course he's been on the buying end before-- you don't smoke as much weed as he used to without buying your own. Sometimes he uncharitably thinks that weed is responsible for the longevity of his and Blair's relationship. But Nate's never sold before, never received the cash slipped into his palm, with a "hey, thanks man."

Nate just hopes he doesn't turn into that dude in Pineapple Express; he's already got an idiot best friend (who will turn out to be the success story of the century, from boozing and womanizing to an empire builder with the perfect family, if he knows Chuck and Blair at all) and doesn't need some guy who buys drugs from him as a stand-in.

Still, it's kind of lonely with Chuck building empires, Blair pretending to while going to classes, Dan at NYU, and Vanessa still not really speaking to him.

There goes high school, and he kind of thought he had more friends than that.

Serena's pretty much his saving grace-- they hang out, kind of a lot, in between his classes and her new job. He loves it, it's a lot like freshman summer and sophomore fall all over again, just without the potential Blair-bomb in between them. Hell, he thinks if he dated Serena now, Blair would fall all over herself to make sure they eventually got married, a tasteful few months after she's dragged Chuck down the aisle. So. That's good. He still can't bring himself to like Carter though, so he never brings up double-dating with S. To be fair, she doesn't either.

"Bree's... fine," she says when pressed, but there's a set to her jaw that makes him think she wants to say more. "Blair doesn't like her though," she'll finish.

"I could bring the Queen home and Blair wouldn't like her," he replies, watching her face.

"True," she'll reply, and they'll go back to eating their mu shu vegetable like nothing's happened.

***

It's not that she doesn't like Bree. Bree's pretty and Southern, which means she's charming and polite. Serena just doesn't understand her Southern mentality, doesn't understand her habit of lying through her teeth just for nicety's sake. Bree just... doesn't add anything to Nate.

Not that Nate needs anything added. Serena just... doesn't like her.

Nothing wrong with that, right?

She mistakenly mentions it to Blair, who goes "AH-HA" and smiles smugly for the rest of the afternoon.

Blair's transparent when she wants to be. At least she doesn't like Bree either.

"There's something so… snake in the grass about her," Blair says over her champagne flute. They're at their biweekly mani-pedi-- Blair's expensing it this week, since Lily's not happy about the whole dropping out of college thing and her toaster strudel budget doesn't really have room for pedicures. She can't exactly tell Blair she can afford more than toaster strudels if you count her second job, since Blair doesn't, and will never know that she's dealing drugs.

She doesn't even want to imagine the look on Blair's face.

"How gauche," Blair says, and Serena's snapped back to reality. She's really going to have to make up with her mother or pretend she got a raise soon; she misses real breakfast food. Toaster strudels just make her all spacey.

"Bree's just…"

"Not right for Nate," Blair finishes. Serena nods, guiltily taking a sip of her champagne.

"But don't worry, B, he'll move on soon enough. You know he hasn't had a long-term relationship since you," she replies.

"I'm not the worried one," Blair says pointedly, and downs the rest of her champagne. Serena gestures for a refill and starts asking about Blair's classes and Dorota's love life. She's with Carter, Nate's with Bree, and Blair's grasping at straws.

That's what she tells herself, anyway.

***

"One of my connections dried up," Carter announces one night. They're holed up in Nate's apartment, smoking and drinking. Nate's favorite rap is playing on the speakers.

"So that means you guys are going to have less to sell until I get back from Colombia," he finishes, and Nate shakes his head. Serena's the first to reply.

"Colombia? Carter, that's the stupidest fucking place to get drugs from. Aren't they like, constantly besieged?" Serena sighs, glances at Nate. His eyes are hard. He's angry again, like he always is around Carter. She knows there was some shit last year between them, or two years ago? That's right, at cotillion. But Carter wasn't after Blair then, so…

She just wishes they could get along, that's all.

"Can't we just grow it up in the Hamptons or some shit?" Nate suggests, throwing a glance at Serena. It's a bone, she knows, but one she'll take.

"You wanna volunteer your mom's house in the Hamptons where she's still living, by the way, Nate, yeah, I know about that, then go right ahead. And the Bass estate in the Hamptons is guarded better than Fort Knox, and I can't go home again, 'cause I'm never going to be the prodigal son."

"I still hate you, Baizen."

"Likewise, Archibald."

"Boys!" She scolds, but they won't listen to her anyway. She's not the brains of the operation. She'll probably never be on any operation during her lifetime.  
She kind of gets why her mother likes being older now. At least Lily gets taken seriously occasionally . Your looks fade, but you get more respect. Trade-offs.

There's always a trade-off, safety versus living, risk versus reward, and maybe being blonde isn't the worst thing in the world, but Serena's always wanted everything. The sun, the moon, and the stars, and more than just what's handed to her on a silver platter because of her looks and her name. She wants to earn it, wants to live it, but she can't bring herself to burn her bridges so she can.

'Cause there's no coming back from that. Disown your family, deny your name, cut your hair, but you're still Serena van der Woodsen inside.

And that's where it counts, baby girl. That's where it counts.

It's no wonder she's back to drunken debauchery again, getting stoned and screwing up. Blair's going to yell at her so much for this one, but it's a conscious decision. It's one Serena makes again and again, every day. She doesn't have to help Carter, she doesn't really owe him anything.

Or does she?

"Look, you two, it doesn't matter where I get the drugs from," Carter says, his voice steel. "What matters is that you sell them. Your looks and reps will take care of everything. It's a cakewalk."

"An illegal cakewalk," Nate aptly points out.

"Well, Mister Isn't Taking His Family's Money After Bailing On The Internship That Came Along With It, Only To Find Out That His Scholarship To Columbia Only Covers Like, A Third Of His Tuition, beggars can't be choosers. People in glass houses that smoke up every day should not throw stones."

Serena giggles. She can't help it.

"You're being ridiculous again, sweetie," she laughs as Carter leans over to kiss her.

"Thanks, baby, what would I do without you?" Their kiss is short, and she's laughing into it, but she still notices his pointed look at Nate.

She knows this position. She's been in it before. She's been in it before with Nate.

Deny, deny, deny, van der Woodsen. Blondes always know nothing. It's in the bylaws.

***

She's the whirl of the social scene. They never had a doubt. Even in high school she was queen just by playing in a higher wading pool. Her business plans and carefully crafted lectures from Chuck, of all people, on how to be a business woman go by the wayside as she's sucked farther into the bright lights.

She's always known it was a big city, but she never knew how many bright lights there were.

Serena's getting her footing, that's what she tells everyone, at a little (big) PR firm. Chuck holds back some of his contacts, for fear of the company stealing her leads, but she's got enough to do as it is. Four inch stilettos mean she towers over most of her clients, but it's about the image, always. Tall blonde glamazon, could've been a model, but maybe a little too smart for that.

She loves it, loves that she gets to be smart here, and witty, and all those things she could never be when being compared to Blair and Dan and Chuck. Compared to most of the models she sees going through the grind, she's positively a genius.

And she knows she got this job because of her summer tour of the European tabloids. Hello, it's not like Hello! doesn't have an international circulation. But strangely, she doesn't mind. She's not Nate, never wanting to use her family name for anything-- she's always used it to get her way when all else fails. She doesn't even mind the grunt work, at least she's working her way up.

Carter is ecstatic, though; it's almost like he planted the PR firm to hire her.

"It's perfect, Serena," he says when they're having dinner in his rooms one night. He's rented a little apartment in the West Village and she loves it. It's tiny and horrifically expensive (but she's never lived anywhere but hotels, so maybe not that expensive) but she also never expected him to stay in the city. She's been crashing at Blair's for a week, and thank god he got a place, because as much as she loves Eleanor and Dorota, she still gets uncomfortable having sex there.

"It's not perfect. I mean, I had to organize my boss's shoe closet," she says in between bites of her spaghetti.

It's not perfect, but she loves it anyway.

***

"I've got a business to run," he shrugs when she asks him why he got this apartment. It's their next "business meeting" and she and Nate have been carefully bumping up the amount of time they hang out together so nothing seems untoward when he travels over to Carter's place. Just three friends, hanging out.

"Let's get you a plant!" she says, enthusiasm reflecting in her entire body.

"A pot plant?" he snickers, grabbing her by the waist.

"Yes, like that won't tip off the neighbors! No, a real plant! Like what real people who don't move every two months have in their apartment. Oh, I always wanted one."

"You also always wanted a dog," Nate says from his position by the door. He's sitting on a beat-up ottoman, books strewn around his feet, and dirty dishes stacked on the bookshelf beside him.

"A retriever puppy!" She bounces a little on the bed. "Oooh, I should get a dog."

Carter and Nate exchange glances.

"So, a plant, huh?"

"It would look nice on the bookcase," Nate remarks.

"Sold."

***

They do a byline in the paper—"The brothers and sister Bass"

"Step--" they correct the reporter in unison, the one family dinner he gets invited to. Eric just shrugs. Still, she supposes "the (step-) brothers and sister Bass" doesn't quite have the same ring to it.

It's the same old story on Chuck anyway, success story at eighteen, serious girlfriend, loving (step) family and conveniently forgetting all but the slightest mention of his step-adoptive-mother's impending remarriage. This time there's a new angle though, successful step-sis Serena. A family of wunderkinds eschewing college for career.

Even Eric gets a mention, when he quips "who knows, maybe I'll go join Broadway." She teases him about his Broadway ambitions for the rest of the week, places a kiss on his head when she finds him pouring over a Yale brochure. Serena's selfishly glad that he's not going to follow in her dissolute footsteps, no matter how successful she seems to the outside world.

"Study math," she tells him. "Or science. Something impossibly hard, okay?"

"Then I might end up a drop out like you, sis," he smiles.

"You sound like Chuck," she says, wrinkling her nose. "It's not attractive."

"Jonathan begs to differ," Eric jokes, and she reaches over to ruffle his hair.

***

It's mostly the same, being a drug dealer. There's kind of an illicit rush every time she brokers a deal--not that she does many. Carter mostly takes over after she's done the groundwork of meeting people and figuring out which celebs and their entourages are into "that sort of thing."

She's doing what she would be doing anyway, only now she has a secret from her family, a hot boyfriend, and a best friend-in-crime.

Plus, if they go down for this?

Daddy's definitely going to pay attention.

***

She keeps stealing Chuck's weed. He'd notice if she stopped.

"I still feel kind of icky about it though," she says, reclining on Nate's bed.

"Don't," he laughs. "It's Chuck."

"Yeah, but he has a soul, despite all the jokes we make."

"Serena, I know we both love Chuck, it's just… it's weird, him not being the screw-up. If you had asked me five years ago, who, out of all of us would be the most likely to be spending time in jail for drugs, it would've been him at the top of the list, every time. Hell, you could've asked me last year, and it would still be him."

"Yet I'm the one who got arrested. And this year, at that," she says, pointing to her mug shot. She'd given her framed copy from Blair to Nate as a joke, but he'd hung it on his wall opposite his bed, with other candid shots of the four of them. It was kind of cute, albeit girly.

"Besides, he's probably getting it from Carter anyway, or one of his suppliers," Nate says, taking another drag. "And isn't the first rule of drug dealing that you're not supposed to smoke your own stash?"

"Isn't that don't smoke all your product?" she inquires as she takes the joint out of his outstretched hand. It's impossible that their fingers don't touch, and she gets that comforting feeling in her stomach that happens whenever he touches her.

He laughs, and it's a rich sound that fills the room. Serena meets his eyes, and the giggles start, and then the hiccups, and before she knows it she's collapsed on top of him, and his laughter is muffled by her hair and his skin is smooth under her lips, stifling her giggles, but it's all so so good and she never wants it to end.

"Nate," she says, lifting her head up. He brushes her hair off his mouth, tucks it back behind her ears. The braid she's threaded through her hair has come undone, and she brushes that back too. He licks his lips and she's mesmerized by them. Boys shouldn't have lips that pretty, soft and pink and slightly chapped.

He puts his hands on either side of her face, and her reverie is snapped.

"Serena," he says solemnly, "let's play Rock Band."

***

"Blair doesn't like Bree very much," she ventures, mid "Say it Ain't So." Nate's called the guitar from here to eternity, so she's stuck on medium on bass.

"Blair doesn't like anyone very much," he replies. "Sometimes I think hanging out with us is a force of habit for her."

"Don't you think we should all hang out with Bree sometime? I am your oldest friend, you know." She bites her lip as he goes into a guitar solo, hair flopping into his eyes, ungelled for once.

"I thought that was Chuck," he remarks after his solo is over, flipping his hair out of his eyes.

"I can't concentrate any more. Let's watch TV," she says, taking off her guitar. He takes a long, slow bong hit and then comes to sit next to her on his bed. She scoots closer when he sits down, so their legs are touching, and some of her hair falls onto his shoulder.

"Cartoons?"

She scrunches up her nose. "Too much like Rock Band," she says, and giggles. Every few minutes she remembers she's holding the remote and flips a channel or two, until they're watching some dumb celebrity countdown.

"Serena, you are baked beyond belief," he laughs, and she laughs and falls into him.

They fall asleep there, on top of the covers, and Nate ignores two calls from Bree.

***

It gets colder after her mother and Rufus get married.

"We won't have anything left to sell if Carter gets murdered," Nate says quietly after they've slipped out from the wedding. They're riding the subway uptown, and he's given her his suit jacket to wear. She's glad for it, both because of the bums and the chill. It's odd, pretending to be poor, when she knows that she could afford to buy a limo of her own now. Nate too, although he'd probably buy the next five terms of tuition first. She's got to hand it to him, he's serious about school now, and it's one of the more attractive things about him.

"I called him, Natie." She looks out the window at the darkness going by.

"I feel partially responsible; I brought Bree here."

"You didn't know, Natie, stop doing this. It's his fault too." Her fingers grasp the bar above as the car lurches to a stop. People file past her to get off, brushing his suit jacket, and she instinctively moves closer to Nate. He puts an arm around her, fingertips lightly resting on the small of her back.

"I don't want him to die," she says in a quiet voice after the subway starts moving again, "but I'm not sure I want to do this with him anymore." His fingers clutch her waist tighter, and her free hand pushes her bag up her arm to clutch at his shirt.

"We'll get him out, get him out of the country, and then we'll go back to living the life of impoverished nobility that we never really stopped living."

"Toaster strudels, Nate. I ate toaster strudels for breakfast."

"Yeah, you're really going to have to make up with your mom. Even I eat toast."

She buries her face in her shirt and laughs through the next two stops.

"Come over to my place and let's work on your poker game," Nate says when they're a few stops away from his place.

"I don't see how that's…" she trails off. "But sure." She's grateful for him to not be alone tonight, and if Carter does actually need rescuing, Nate might be onto something with the poker game.

"We'll figure it out," he says, taking her hand in his.

***

They've been working on a plan to "free Carter" from the clutches of the Buckleys for most of the night, and it's kind of fun.

"I mean, he does have all those gambling debts," Serena points out.

"Some winner you picked there," Nate half-jokes, and she throws a card at him.

"Not funny, Nate," she says as he picks the card off his shirt.

"Ace of spades, nice! Although if you want to win, I suggest keeping your cards to yourself and not giving them to the other players, no matter how bad you want into their pants."

She rolls her eyes at him and takes another sip off the bourbon he's poured for her. They're both single now, and it's strange that this time he decides to start flirting. It wouldn't be so bad, she decides, but she wants to get Carter taken care of before she leaps into bed with Nate.

She'd feel kind of slutty otherwise.

***

She chases Carter down in the hallway, candles be damned. Her room might be going up in flames as they speak, but so is her life.

"Carter, we all have more than enough money now to pay off your debts; I don't know why you're so insistent on being your own man."

"It wasn't a gambling debt to the Buckleys. In fact, none of them were gambling debts." He's tense and she doesn't know how to fix him, bring her sweet-talking charmer of a boyfriend back.

"Then what kind of debt was it?" she questions, her voice quiet.

"The Buckleys… the Buckleys are one of our suppliers, Serena. Whenever I was seeing someone about my 'gambling debts' or going to play poker… I was getting drugs at the same time. One of my conditions after Beth left me and I started traveling with you was eventually I use you to get to your friends. Specifically Nate Archibald, van der Bilt wonderchild," he admits.

"Wait, Beth left you? I thought you left her? And this would bankrupt them if this got out! And their political careers? I mean, they're a dynasty." She can't really wrap her head around this. Yes, the unlikeliest people are involved in drug dealing, her and Nate are case in point, but the Buckleys? They're like the poster children for good old fashioned values. If this was Prohibition and they were running moonshine gin for their martinis, certainly. But pot? Southern people don't smoke pot.

Although it would explain how they managed to remain cordial at all times, that's for sure.

"Beth left me, but they made it look like I left her. It was the official price of doing business with them. Along with Nate."

"Oh, so you just used me for my friends? Great, Carter. Just great."

"He was using you too, Serena, don't you forget. Or did you already forget about the doctored picture he set you up with?"

"Yeah, but he's not my boyfriend, and at least he's already had the decency to apologize." She sighs. "Maybe it's better that you go."

She walks back into her old room, and doesn't look back to see if he's still standing there. The candles blow out quickly, and she's left in the dark.

Make a wish, Serena, maybe it'll all go away.

***

Nate shows up the next morning with a potted plant.

"You lied to me, Nate. You manipulated me." She's half-dressed and pissed off. Boots are scatted all around her feet, tights littered on the bed and strewn on the floor.

"My family needed me, Serena." He's looking away, plant still held to his chest, but she knows he's sneaking glances.

"Your family? I am your family, you idiot," she says, viciously tugging on her boots. "You can look at me now."

"Then you'll forgive me for doing what I had to do." His gaze is steady on her face as she tugs on a vest, then rejects it.

"You didn't have to do anything, Nate. What's wrong with you?"

"I'm thinking your seedy former boyfriend dragged us into a mess that could destroy us both, not to mention my family and yours. Sorry if I had to play a little dirty to get us out of it." He's cleared a space on her bed free of clothes and perched on the edge of it. The plant is still in his hands, half-forgotten.

"You think I wouldn't have helped you if you'd asked?"

"You wouldn't have left Carter to rot; you like him too much."

"Yeah, I liked him, Natie, but you're family."

"Besides, it wouldn't have worked if you'd known about it. You could never lose on purpose," he says, touching her arm. She tilts her head to the side, considering his words.

"I guess you're right. Well. Now that I've spent all my ill-begotten gains on freeing Carter, I suppose it's back to the life of a homeless PR assistant for me."

"Come stay with me, Serena. Let me make it up to you. I have toast and fresh orange juice. And a plant," he says, offering it to her. "I know you've always wanted one."

"Tempting," she says, pretending to mull it over. "But what will your family think? I have been arrested, you know."

"Who cares? I'm my own man now," he laughs, putting down the plant and drawing her close for a kiss.

"You're not high, you shouldn't want to kiss me," she says, drawing away slightly.

"I always want to kiss you, Serena. Why do you think I left in Europe? Because I wanted to kiss you and I couldn't, because you were with Carter." She blinks, but his gaze is unwavering, and his fingers are drawing patterns on her elbows.

"Oh," she says. "But how—when—what?"

"Shut up and kiss me, Serena." She laughs and obliges.

"That is pretty much the cheesiest line ever, Nate, too many old movies by half." She's not entirely sure what she's doing anymore, but she loves Nate, and kissing him is like… really good.

"Says the girl who watches Breakfast at Tiffany's pretty much every Sunday morning with Blair."

"Shut up," she says, kissing him again.

"It's kind of sad that it took running a drug cartel to get us together," she says, after what seems like hours. Her lips are swollen and feel kind of chapped. "Do you see my lip balm anywhere?"

"My friend, you have a lot to learn. We were not running anything." Nate smiles, offers her his chapstick, then puts it on himself."You need to pack anything?" He surveys the room full of shoes and tights.

"I never unpacked," she laughs. "This is just old stuff."

"Then Rock Band awaits."

"Hold on, I have to steal Chuck's weed first."

"You realize I still have enough to last us a year back at my place." His face is incredulous.

"Do you really want him to find out we were selling drugs? 'Cause he will if I don't."

"He has a PI on speed dial, Serena, he probably already knows."

"That would explain why he never liked Carter," she says over her shoulder, throwing tights back in drawers and nestling her boots back in her closet. She may not live here anymore, but leaving a dirty room for the maids to pick up is not in her agenda. That is how they find your weed.

"He never liked Carter, because, good weed and good taste in women aside, he was a douchebag."

"I have horrible taste in men."

"Hey, you never dated Chuck, that's one up you've got on Blair," he says, laughing.

"Oh god, let's not tell Blair for a while," she says with a horrified expression, imagining all the forced double dates and potential of being manipulated into marriage.

"Deal," Nate says, and kisses her again.


End file.
